Warm Up
by diamondwine
Summary: Indira goes to the gym and is pestered by the god of mischief in disguise as a university student.


Two hours after the last exam of my undergraduate career, I haul myself off to the gym to run off the stress I'd been feeling for the past couple of weeks. I can't believe I'm graduating, and the mixed feelings dissipate after I've spent a good half an hour warming up, walking on the treadmill, staring into space, and thinking about what my future might hold. I finally break into a run, and ten minutes into it, the irritating _thwack, thwack, thwack_ noise that always accompanies the punching bags that the guys obsessively beat at, breaks my sense of calmness. I glance over from my treadmill to catch a glimpse of pale skin; whoever is punching the bag isn't wearing a t-shirt. I think for a minute and wonder whether it's that guy from my personality psych class. He usually sits in the front row, like I do, every Tuesday and Thursday from 1:00 to 2:00-ish; the class is supposed to end at 2:15, but the professor always lets us leave early, not wanting to take the entire seventy-five minutes to lecture about Behaviorism, Jung, and gemeinschaftsgefühl. As I think harder about the class, I struggle to remember the tall, pale, raven-haired guy's name. I had almost spoken to him _once_, while everyone was blabbering about their cheat sheets for the third exam, waiting outside the auditorium where lecture is held to panic about forgetting their number two pencils. He had dropped one of the cheat sheets of notes he'd typed up to use for the exam, and in the midst of yapping voices, I had been close enough to pick it up and hand it back to him. He'd simply smiled, and when I looked up at his bright white teeth, I found the canines to be rather sharp, and I think he'd laughed, but I couldn't really hear over the Coldplay from my earphones. The dark green binder he'd been holding had his name written on it. _What was it…?_ Loki. As I glance over where the noise from the punching bag has paused, I find that it is in fact that same guy standing there, pacing with his gauze wrapped knuckles resting on his hips. I nearly trip at my pace for a moment, staring at him. His body is simply a work of art. I stare down at the monitor on my machine, not wanting to be caught staring at him. _Thwack, thwack, thwack_. He continues his pummeling of the bag and I sigh with some irritation. After a fifteen minute breeze run, the droplets of sweat are beginning to soak my sports bra. The _thwacking_ noise has stopped, and as I slow down to take a sip of water, I notice the sound of somebody skipping rope behind me. I had once seen some guy show off, walking on his hands very steadily down the aisle of treadmills, and as the rope skipper drifts to my right, I can see that it is Loki out of the corner of my eye. He turns in my direction, so that he's looking at me, and my heart jolts as I hope he's not _really looking_; I come to the gym to workout, break a sweat, not to look cute. The thought of him eying me as I walk on the treadmill makes me sweat even more. I start up to a run again, and I hear someone step onto the machine beside me. I can't ignore the paleness in my peripheral vision as he slaps down his student ID into the holder on the machine.

"Hi," he says affably. I glance to my right, in disbelief, grinning and returning the greeting with panting breath. He starts up the machine to a brisk walk, keeps the pace for a minute, before running at a speed faster than my own. I glance to my right again and find that his long limbs are covering more laps than I would have been able to even if I were going at the same pace.

"Want to race?" he asks, his voice this odd and devious drawl that catches me by surprise. Cocking both brows, I glance to the right where his sharp green eyes are looking directly at me, and there's a smile on his face that makes the sweat drip faster down my temple. I grin and laugh a bit, somewhat out of breath. I then ignore him and continue at my own pace, telling myself I won't stop until he does. But once another twenty minutes passes, I begin to feel an ache in my side. I'm not a natural runner, so the pace tires me to a point of exhaustion. I press the speed button to slow down, until I'm at a brisk walk again, catching my breath. Loki laughs on the machine beside me. I spare him a blank glance. For some reason, this irritates me. I'd simply wanted to outdo him, the adrenaline surging from the speed I had just been running at. I readjust my ponytail, keeping at a walk. I start stealing glances over at Loki, to find that he's staring ahead, over at the T.V. screens near the ellipticals. His eyes are really beautiful, and almost as if he'd heard me think this telepathically, his face turns in my direction again and he grins, the sweat pooling at the hollow of his pale neck before dripping down his torso, which, as I look again, I observe to be perfect. I feel really uncomfortable then, wishing I could get away from him, but at the same time, wanting to lean over my machine and run my hand down his sweaty pale arm. He inhales deeply through his nose. I check my calorie count to find that I'm almost at 300. Ever since I was a freshman, I have always wondered whether these treadmills are really accurate in displaying the calories burned. They even tell you your heart rate if you grasp the sensors connected to the monitor. I used to do this as a freshman, when I started to get hardcore into running. I remember giving myself shin splints and having to spend my entire first winter vacation recuperating. Suddenly, the speed on my machine begins to skyrocket past the brisk 3.4km/h I'm walking at. I gasp and start to run, glancing quickly to the right to find a pale hand there, the slender fingers holding down the speed button in the up direction. The machine begins to lift on incline as he presses the incline button thrice.

"Hey!" I gasp, glaring to my right to find that his green eyes are wide, as if with some sort of amazement. Loki's lips are pursed a bit, almost into an O, and he looks at me like he's very intrigued. I had been lost in such stupid thoughts that I hadn't noticed him stop his machine, get off, and approach mine. I start running faster, keeping my footing before looking him square in the eye.

"What do you think you're doing?" I ask as he places his hands on his hips and looks at me like I've just told him something very funny. I don't slow the treadmill down, however, nor do I press the button that will reduce the incline. I feel like I'm running up the deadly near-vertical hill that leads to the residential area on campus where one of my girlfriends had made the mistake of living one year. Loki's arms are crossed across his chest, and I can't help leering down at it; he's standing very close to me. After a few more seconds, he leans against the treadmill and looks right into my face.

"How do you think you did on the last exam?" he asks, as coolly as if we are dorm mates.

"…I didn't take it," I answer quickly. It had been a make-up exam. The professor for personality psych was very fair with his tests, even allowing students to earn up to _twenty-four_ bonus points on their final grades.

"I already have an A," I pant, gasping as the treadmill suddenly makes noise, slowly declining. I stare at my classmate's finger on the button. He's about to press the speed button, in what I now believe is an attempt to kill me, and I reach for it, covering it with my entire hand.

"Ah, Fuck you," he says jokingly, "I'm getting a B because I barely studied. I had biochem to worry about."

I turn to him with a mean smile. His chest and face are flushed with blood from working out. As my eyes trace down his washboard abs, pausing at his green shorts, I start to wonder what the rest of him looks like. He laughs. I'm still running at the fast pace he had set my machine to. I refuse to give up, still wanting to outdo him. Loki takes a step back, resting against the treadmill he had previously been running on. He watches me with one long onyx eyebrow cocked, some sort of anticipation in his expression, grinning. After another minute, I start to feel like I'm going to die. He approaches the machine and adjusts the speed down, until the treadmill is feeding me the same floor at 3.0km/h. I sigh and run the back of my hand across my forehead, catching my breath, but I don't stop sweating even though I've slowed down. This guy is drop dead _gorgeous_, and sweaty, and looking at _me_. Suddenly I wonder why he's so interested, why he's hassling me.

"I'm Loki. What's your name?"

I look around, surprised for a minute, wondering whether I'm still the one he's talking to.

"Are you in mythology with Phillips? I swear I see you in the front row all the time."

I slow my machine down even further, thankful that my face is reddened from the exercise, so he wouldn't have known how much I'm actually blushing. _This beautiful stranger had noticed me all semester?_

"I mean, I sit in the mid to back rows, so you probably never saw me."

"Oh," I breathe, reaching for my water bottle again.

"Don't you usually have glasses?" he asks, gesturing circles around his eyes with these perfect svelte fingers that I suddenly wish to hold. I laugh, looking away to face the people on the other side of the glass who are running around the indoor track in races.

"Yeah," I explain, successfully fighting a shy smile. I press the red stop button on the treadmill and let it send me rolling back until I can jump off onto the floor.

"My name's Indira, but I just go by Indie," I breathe, grabbing the bottle of watered-down rubbing alcohol and the accompanying filthy cloth they make you rub the machine handles down with when you're done sweating all over them.

"Are you a senior?" I ask curiously. He's clearly not a freshman by his looks.

"Yeah. Are you?"

I nod, reaching for my cell phone and student ID from the treadmill's holder. When I look at Loki's face again, he's smiling genuinely.

"Ready for graduation?" he asks, and the next thing I know, he's in my personal space, looking down at me, and then I really notice how much taller than me he is; the treadmill had given me some height. He extends his pale hand for me to shake. I reach for it, nodding in answer to his query, and I nearly gasp; his hand is oddly cold for someone who just finished running like a triathlete.

"What's your major?" I ask, ripping my nervous gaze away from the emeralds he has for eyes, staring down at his hand clasping mine. He lets it go. My tank top is damp with sweat, and I find myself lasciviously wondering whether Loki's cool hands might be able to cool the rest of me down.

"Biology," he grins, "Yours?"

"I'm psych and pre-med."

"Ooo," he marvels.

"Have you taken the MCAT yet?"

His gaze is damn near hypnotizing as I blink up at him dumbly, shaking my head, my mouth falling agape and speechless.

"I'm—I'm going to. This summer," I add, taking a step back from him. His eyes follow me as I climb back up onto the treadmill to grab my water bottle.

"Well, good luck with that," he says.

"Thanks," I laugh nervously.

"Maybe I'll see you at commencement or graduation," he smiles.

"Maybe..."

We both start off towards the locker rooms. The men's is right beside the women's, so we simply walk awkwardly in silence, side by side, down the stairs to the first floor. Loki clears his throat, and as I glance at him through the corner of my eye, I find that he's glancing down at me from the corner of _his_ eye. I feel his cold hand wrap around my warm arm, just as I'm about to pass the men's locker room where he had stopped walking.

"Hey, I'm sorry I sped up your treadmill. I was just joking."

I spin around, and he releases my arm, an unsure expression on his face until he sees that I am smiling.

"It's okay. I was planning on going faster at some point."

He laughs and tilts his head to the side. His black hair falls in a wave over his sharply sculpted face.

"Well, have a great summer," I shrug. I'm always so fucking awkward with guys. I am about to be a college graduate and I'm still a virgin. I had thought about getting rid of the title since I was a freshman, but decided against it after frequently overhearing the way gaggles of douche bags constantly insult and talk about the girls they've had sex with at this frat party or that Friday night. Most of them were just disrespectful womanizers, anyway. I sigh and Loki nods.

"Likewise," he says, and his voice licks my eardrums in a way that makes me feel aroused. I smile, scanning his face and body one more time as he bites down upon the straw portion of his BPA-free Camelbak, his sharp canines glinting before my eyes again. He then tilts the bottle up to his mouth, and I can't help zeroing in on his Adam's apple as it bounces with each swallow. He grins at me again and I turn to walk into the women's locker room. I smile to myself like an idiot, wishing I could have started talking to him _months_ ago, when there was still time to possibly be asked out on a date. He'd seemed interested in me, for some reason, and I thought he was really attractive, and might have even turned out to be a _nice_ guy. I sigh with wishful thinking as I wash my hands, look at my sweat covered face in the mirror. _Fuck, I looked disgusting while I was talking to him!_ I rinse my face with a handful of water from the automatic sink, dabbing it dry on the front of my tank top before walking into the locker and shower room. I roll the combination lock on locker number five hundred sixty-nine, _five…seven…twenty-five_. I'd always told myself that if I started forgetting my own combination lock, it meant I wasn't going to the gym enough. The locker opens and I reach into my gray backpack for the shower supplies I'd brought with me. I take off my shirt and bra, seemingly the only one in the locker room. Even if I hadn't been, I wouldn't have really cared so much if one other girl saw my boobs. I pull off the sweat-drenched sports bra, my sweatpants and underwear next, slipping into a pair of flip flops. I stuff the sweaty items into the small garbage bag I'd fit inside my backpack; gym bags get stinky. When I turn around, ready to pull my towel out of the bag, Loki is standing in front of the large full-length mirror, looking at me.

"You're cute," he says, after I gasp. I shout, ripping the towel from my backpack and wrapping it around my body, not that it had made much of a difference, he'd already seen me completely butt ass naked.

"What the fuck? This is the _women's_ bathroom. Get out," I explain, trying to sound as irritated as possible. But as I stare at his abs, I start to feel distracted. He laughs, raising a finger to his lips.

"…How did you even…?" I hadn't heard him come in at all.

"Shhh," he says. To my surprise, I don't try to scream again, run, or back away as he closes the gap between us.

"I've seen the way you look at me in personality psych, when you think I'm not looking," he says quietly. Something cool cups my chin and I gasp upon realizing that it's his fingers. I turn my head and he plants his hand firmly against the locker beside my head. _Wait, did he just call me cute?_

"I think you're cute," he says again.

"And I'm naked—get out."

The next thing I know, his lips are pressed against mine and I'm completely taken aback. I slowly close my eyes, allowing Loki's to taste my mouth. He rips the towel out of my hands suddenly and lifts me by my waist off the floor. I gasp at his strength. Loki presses me against the full length mirror on the white wall.

"Would you scream if I fucked you right here, right now?" he asks dirtily, cocking a brow. I assume that I'm dreaming and will wake up soon very happy. I find myself smiling slowly as he stares up at me, waiting for an answer.

"I know you were thinking about it, too," he says slyly, letting me down the wall only enough so that my legs straddle his waist. I gasp upon the hard sensation I can make out between my legs, which is pressing there fearlessly. I realize again that I'm naked, and this perfect (hot) stranger is leaning into me.

"You know, we'll probably never see each other again, and I kind of don't want to graduate a virgin."

"What?" I ask. It's almost as if he can read my mind.

"…You're one too, aren't you?" He smiles in a sinister manner. I close my eyes, wondering when I will wake up from this bizarre, yet arousing dream. I can hear the fabric sliding down Loki's hips, and then he's inside of me suddenly, seemingly not repulsed by my sweaty thighs clamping down against his hips. He groans and I gasp. Not only is he really attractive, his cock is _massive_, and it takes me a moment of squirming before I get used to the sudden impalement. My inner thighs are aching from running, but I find myself gripping Loki's shoulders as he begins to gently fuck me against the wall. I open my eyes and find his mouth open, his eyes scanning my breasts before he meets my stare. I'm in disbelief.

"It's tighter than I thought it would be," he breathes.

So he'd had a crush on me, too? Just when I think things can't get any weirder, he laughs. I stare at his lips, completely unsure how to react to what he's doing to me, but it starts to feel really, _really _good, so I don't resist. Instead, I groan softly and dig my nail slightly into his shoulders.

"You thought about fucking me?" I breathe, my workout clearly nowhere near finished.

He moans in response. _I'm letting a complete and total stranger take my virginity…_

"Does it feel good, Indira?" he asks, speeding up to a thrust that causes the mirror to shake behind me. I gasp and moan pleasurably before nodding. He grabs my hips and pulls away from the mirror to sit upon the wooden bench. I grab confusedly at his shoulders; he'd stopped. Loki grins down into my eyes, holding me close to him.

"Did you have a crush on me?" he asks. I want for the full feeling inside of me to move around again, and I answer Loki's question by bucking my hips against him. He moans, letting his head fall back against the lockers.

"Oh, shit," he groans, and I know it's not sweat pooling between my spread legs. He grips me tighter as I fuck him, desperate for an orgasm. The circumstances are _beyond_ strange, but it feels too good to stop. Sure, I'd given myself a good climax every now and then, but what I can do to myself pales in comparison to the beautiful man whose nails are clawing into my rear. His teeth grit in anticipation and he presses his lips to my sweating forehead. When we climax, both of our bodies are completely covered in sweat all over again. I feel weak, like I may even pass out, and as Loki bows his head down towards me, I lean away. He wraps a large hand around the back of my neck and I feel his lips against mine before I have the chance to speak. I don't even know him, but I'd let him come inside of me. Something feels very right in the strangest way about the entire situation. I let him kiss me, and he twirls his tongue inside my mouth. I laugh because it tickles and he stops. Loki eyes me curiously.

"What?" he asks.

"…Holy shit, you've never even _kissed _a guy before?" he asks. I close my eyes shyly, turning my head away.

"That was…intense," I breathe, my legs growing weak and falling asleep on Loki's sides. The actual fucking had lasted all of about three minutes, but as my heart races, it feels as if we'd been moving far longer.

"Are you kidding?" he asks in this voice that suddenly arouses me again, his face full of mischief when I look at him, "That was just the warm up."


End file.
